


This is a Song for a Scribbled-Down Name

by Stregatrek



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley's been in love with Aziraphale since the first time they met, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Misunderstandings, Not angsty, Thanks to Florence and the Machine and sleep deprivation for this one lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23732158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stregatrek/pseuds/Stregatrek
Summary: 7 has always been a contentious number for Crowley. Seven deadly sins, seven heavenly virtues. Lucky number seven on slot machines (one he’d not come up with, though he did help put them online), seven days to create, well, Creation.Not sure at the end of the day where he and the number seven stood, he was more than a little put out to realize, in the middle of a bottle of wine (he couldn’t remember how many they’d been through, but the number was in fact seven), that he’d fallen seven times in Aziraphale’s company.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	This is a Song for a Scribbled-Down Name

**Author's Note:**

> I've fallen out of favor and I've fallen from grace  
> Fallen out of trees and I've fallen on my face  
> Fallen out of taxis, out of windows too  
> Fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you  
> (Florence + The Machine, Falling)

7 has always been a contentious number for Crowley. Seven deadly sins, seven heavenly virtues. Lucky number seven on slot machines (one he’d not come up with, though he did help put them online), seven days to create, well, Creation.   
Not sure at the end of the day where he and the number seven stood, he was more than a little put out to realize, in the middle of a bottle of wine (he couldn’t remember how many they’d been through, but the number was in fact seven), that he’d fallen seven times in Aziraphale’s company.

1\. Fallen out of favor  


He knew when it began, of course he did. For all he claimed that it was a vague downward saunter, every journey begins with a step, and the step was a casual conversation with the lads (read: Lucifer) about the rather top-down structure of Heaven’s work. Gabriel heard, and favor was withdrawn from where it had only ever grudgingly lighted anyway, and Crowley perhaps didn’t Fall just then, but he certainly slipped.  


2\. Fallen from grace  


Again, nevermind what he said about a saunter, Falling was not something one forgot.  


3\. Fallen out of trees  


It was an apple tree, because of course it was. He was only up there for Aziraphale, only up there to show off that he could climb, and would come down with perfectly good, perfectly human fruit. It was hardly his fault that the human proprietor of this particular garden surprised him, and he put his foot right into thin air, and then landed in a heap in the dirt at Aziraphale’s feet, which was all kinds of fitting he would rather not think about. He’d dusted himself off, and they’d gone for apple tarts instead, which was much better anyway. With apple tarts, there was a table to lean his elbows on, and a smile on Aziraphale’s face for him to watch. He didn’t even mind so much about the ribbing he got about the apple tree.  


4\. Fallen on my face  


“Yes, all right, yes. Now you’re making a rather smug face, and I don’t appreciate that,” Aziraphale had sniffed, and Crowley had held his smug expression firm over the warmth that threatened to twist his lips into- Someone forbid- a smile. He turned to saunter away, back to the Bentley, content in his little conversational victory.  


However, when one had hips that wouldn’t quite acknowledge the fact that they were hips, one tended to have issues with the concept of walking in a straight line over a flat surface without falling. Typically, when this became an issue, Crowley caught himself, smoothly or not. This time, however, he was busy saying something very clever and cutting back over his shoulder at Aziraphale, and when his hips failed to get his thighs in motion, and his thighs failed to get his calves in motion, his foot caught on something or other and he landed, of course, on his smug face. Perhaps if his jeans hadn’t been so tight he’d have gotten his hands out of his pockets in time to break his fall, but certain facts being what they were, he found himself face down in St. James’ with a frumpy angel giggling at him. It was absolutely a giggle, whatever Aziraphale sniffed and insisted haughtily about a dignified chuckle if anything, dear boy.  


5\. Fallen out of taxis  


This one was Aziraphale’s fault, one thousand percent. He might as well have pushed Crowley himself. They’d been drinking, out on the town, trying every new little wine bar Aziraphale had managed to somehow happen across and meet the family in charge of. As a result, they were more uproariously drunk than Crowley could remember being in public since sharing oysters with this same being, so many years ago he didn’t care to count, because he’d been in love then too and thinking about each and every passing year was bound to give him Emotions. So in the moment, bundled into a taxi and giving the driver the notion of the address of Aziraphale’s bookshop, could a demon really be blamed for looking too long into angelic eyes, saying some drunken thing about Who only knew what, and watching the angel laugh? No, a demon could not. A demon _might _however be blamed for failing to notice that he’d become entangled in the seatbelt he’d neglected to put on, a fact which made itself clearly known when said demon opened the taxi door and attempted to emerge sauvely into the late night air but rather jerked and fell unceremoniously onto concrete. A demon might be blamed for this, but the demon would know it was really the fault of a certain lovely angel and his lovely eyes.  
__

__6\. Out of windows, too  
_ _

__In complete fairness, Crowley blames himself for this one. A local theater company is going to do Hamlet, and Crowley knows Aziraphale will love it, their little updates and new staging. So he needs it to be good, so that when he takes the angel to see it he’ll get to see the angel smile. At the stage, certainly, and hopefully at him as well. That little grin, that little ‘oh you shouldn’t have but I’m awfully glad you did’ smile that Aziraphale does when he’s being spoiled and refuses to admit it.  
_ _

__So when he goes to check that everything is in order before opening night, and finds that the set is a little underdone, he takes it upon himself to improve. He’s always been a bit shit at the fiddly little miracles, and he likes working with his hands (see: gluing coins to sidewalks, one at a time, thousands in total. Hundreds of thousands, over the centuries). So he climbed up, perched in the scaffolded two by fours supporting the window, and set to work.  
_ _

__The sound of a very familiar and very surprised voice from behind him was what did it, and he flailed a moment, worsening his own situation, and fell to the stage with a defeated little thump. Embarrassing as it was to explain what he’d been doing, it was perhaps more embarrassing to find out that Aziraphale had been there to do the same, had in fact been helping the little company along and suggested that they do Hamlet in the first place.  
_ _

__Still, afterward, he took the angel out for a bite to eat, and when they did see Hamlet the next night it was a point of pride that Crowley had fallen out that damn window in pursuit of perfection. Which currently sat next to him in the dark theater, smiling at the stage. Perfection had a very lovely smile.  
_ _

__7\. Fell in Your Opinion When I Fell in Love With You  
_ _

__It may be cheating to go out of order on this one, but Crowley finds it justified, in his mind, because it’s the biggest one. Falling from Grace happened to so many of them, and being a demon in the end had really only put him on Earth, where he found the angel who had been put on Earth, and approximately seven seconds later fell in love with him. And if he hadn’t fallen in love with him, the rest of history would have been irrevocably changed. Particularly one day, on which he might have chosen to fight with his own kind, flee to the stars, or stay and put into incontrovertible deed the feelings he’d long worked to hide. That bit of human history would have gone rather differently had Crowley not spent the last six thousand years being head over heels in love with his Enemy, Thwarter of his Wiles, Ineffable Lunch Date.  
_ _

__So he counts it as number seven, because the final day is one of rest, one of worship, and that’s what he’s doing now. Armageddon, Armageddoff. Off. And just like that, plus a little sleight of face, he had the foreseeable future to spend with Aziraphale. He wished it were as foreseeable to him as it had been to Agnes Nutter, Witch. There was a lot he would give to know whether he was still going too fast, or if Aziraphale was ever going to catch up. He suspected the angel knew, had always known, and just found the whole thing a little… distasteful. After all, as Aziraphale could sense love, he’d have known since second number eight spent in Crowley’s company. The fact that he hadn’t ever commented directly was the result of his opinion of the whole thing. Probably felt a bit sorry for Crowley, always trailing after him. How many more years of trailing would he get, the demon wondered, until one side or the other decided to stage Apocalypse Part Two: The Second One.  
_ _

__But for the moment: rest, and worship, looking at every detail of Aziraphale’s beloved face, his stupid bowtie, that damn jacket he hadn’t changed in a hundred years. Worth worshipping.  
_ _

__“Crowley? Have you heard a word I’ve said, my dear?”  
_ _

__“Seven,” Crowley smiled at him.  
_ _

__“Now that’s a total nonsec- nonsesn- that doesn’t make sense.” Aziraphale blinked owlishly over the rim of his wine glass.  
_ _

__“I’ll show you doesn’t make sense,” Crowley got his glasses off, tossed them on the side table, and leaned in very close to Aziraphale’s face. “Seven,” he said again, and then a realization hit him between the eyes like the ground had that one time. “It’s been almost seven thousand years. And this is our seventh bottle of wine,”  
_ _

__Aziraphale laughed comfortably, not leaning away in the slightest. “I think we’ve had rather more than seven, through the years, dear boy, and you’re rounding quite a bit up to seven thousand.”  
_ _

__Crowley waved that away. “Sssseven thousand yearsss. S’not a bad number.”  
_ _

__“No. Quite im-impressive, I should think,” Aziraphale smiles, smug. “And we made sure everything would be here to see it.”  
_ _

__“Impresssive,” Crowley repeats, eyes stuck on his angel’s face, forgetting his original point.  
_ _

__“What- what about seven, my dear?”  
_ _

__Interesting number, seven. On the one hand, the number of days in which Everything was created. On the other, seven circles of Hell. Wait- he’d done this part already. “Seven falls.”  
_ _

__“What?”  
_ _

__Crowley shakes his head. If he tries to get into it, he’ll lose the thread of it, and then Aziraphale will just be confused and laugh at him about the apple tree again. He won’t understand. “Number seven was the first,” he says. “No, wait, the third. But the most important.”  
_ _

__“What?” Aziraphale repeats. “My dear, you’ve lost me,”  
_ _

__It’s as good a time as it’ll ever be, he thinks, since he’s unlikely to pick up Agnes Nutter’s powers of prediction at this point in his demonic existence. “It took me seven seconds to fall in love with you.” He says, sort of smiling, feeling his own face go all soft. It’s a little _ugh _, but he can’t help it. “Isn’t that funny? Seven. And it’s been seven thousand yearssss… and this is our seventh bottle of wine.”  
___ _

___“Seven days after we saved the world,” Aziraphale whispers, eyes flicking back and forth between Crowley’s.  
_ _ _

___“Isss it?” The demon laughs. “Well. Sssevens all around, I suppossse. Jackpot.” He imitates the little ringing noise some of the worse slot machines make. Aziraphale doesn’t understand, he can see, and he leaves off, opting instead to chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch.  
_ _ _

___“Seven seconds,” Aziraphale says quietly at his side.  
_ _ _

___Crowley turns his head back to look at him. “Hm?”  
_ _ _

___“It took you seven seconds to fall in love with me,” Aziraphale repeats, and that makes Crowley Feel all kinds of ways he’s not sure he likes. “And almost seven thousand years to say it out loud.”  
_ _ _

___“You told me to slow down. I can take it back if you like. Or you can just- y’know- do what you always do. Pretend you can’t feel it.”  
_ _ _

___“What?” Aziraphale says sharply, sitting up with a shudder Crowley recognizes as a sobering-up. He goes ahead and does the same, slouching further back into the couch and feeling his cheeks flame.  
_ _ _

___“Forget it, angel, I’m sorry I said anything, alright?”  
_ _ _

___“What do you mean, pretend I can’t feel it?” Aziraphale’s voice is pitching up now, and Crowley wants it to go back down, be smooth and quiet and relaxed and happy with him.  
_ _ _

___He isn’t sure what to say to get it to do that. “Uh, you know, since you can feel love, and mine’s been around since seven seconds after we met, and- well, you know, just… keep pretending you can’t feel it? If you want? Since I said it- and again, I’m sorry about that, I was just… I was, uh, just a little caught up on the number seven.”  
_ _ _

___Aziraphale is quiet for a second. Just the one, not seven, Crowley holds his breath about it. Then he says, slowly, with a tiny smile starting to spread, “That’s for me?”  
_ _ _

___“What do you mean? Of course it’s for you! Who else would it be for?”  
_ _ _

___Aziraphale shrugs. “You have to admit, my dear, seven seconds is rather fast. I sort of… well, I sort of thought it was for another angel, or a demon, or the world at large. You know. Predating me.”  
_ _ _

___Crowley rolls his eyes as hard as he can. “Oh, my g- Aziraphale. I love you.”  
_ _ _

___“I love you too, my dear.”  
_ _ _

___The demon sits bolt upright at that. “You do? Just like that?”  
_ _ _

___“Well, since 1941.”  
_ _ _

___Crowley covers his face, not sure how he’s supposed to deal with any of this.  
_ _ _

___Aziraphale’s hand is on his knee, patting it reassuringly. “It’s beautiful, you know. Your love. I was… I was always a little curious, and a little jealous.”  
_ _ _

___“You were jealous of your damn self,” Crowley sighs into his hands. “Angel, I love you,”  
_ _ _

___“I love you too, my dear,”  
_ _ _

___Crowley gets a little thrill, hearing that. He uncovers his face, smirking. “Can I kiss you about it?”  
_ _ _

___Aziraphale’s smile gets, impossibly, brighter. “Yes, please.”  
_ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how this got as out of hand as it did, but I always say that, don't I? You'd think a bitch would learn.   
> -Love, the author at 2AM


End file.
